Aspects of A Bard
by freezingwhitefire
Summary: This is mostly pieces focusing on different aspects of Maglor. What he is as a ruler, a musician, and so on. Each piece focuses on one aspect.
1. The Regent

Maglor: The regent

A/N: This one is based off a picture on Tumblr. It showed Maglor sitting on a throne. As a reminder I do not own the Silmarillion, nor do I own any of the characters from it.

The orc that Morgoth sent to negotiate for Maedhros' return shifted uneasily. This was not what his lord told him he could expect from the 'high king' of the Noldor. He'd said that this elf was weak and hid behind his brothers. The elf sat on his throne like it had been made for him, not someone that was taller, and broader. He looked down at him with icy silver eyes, daring him to speak out of turn, to give him a reason to kill him.

"I was told that you came in the name of Morgoth." His voice was soft and smooth, hardly a whisper, yet it seemed to fill the room.

No, this was definitely not what he was told to expect. He fought back a shiver, suddenly more afraid of this elf that regarded him indifferently than he had been of all but his two leaders. He glared at him trying to seem intimidating.

"Lord Melkor sends his demands for the return of the one you call Maitimo."

If it was possible those silver eyes seemed to get even colder. He felt like he stood in front of Lord Mairon while he was in a temper. The wrong words could end up having terrible consequences. It was a chilling realization that they were so expendable to the two Lords he answered to that he'd been sent as an emissary to the elves.

"I see, and do you have any proof that you have him?"

The orc pulled out a handful of red hair. The elf leaned back in his throne tilting his head slightly. He tapped his fingers lightly on his leg. After a long moment the elf nodded coolly.

"Speak, I'll hear his… 'demands'."

Suddenly the orc felt furious with himself. His kind was superior to these… elves. Lord Melkor had made them so, and no lowly elf was going to intimidate him, especially not this one, the one his Lord had called weak. He sneered at the elf, missing the glint of amusement in silver eyes as the elven lord saw him regather his courage.

"My Lord will return your 'king', if you will agree to the following conditions. First you give up any claim on these lands. They belong to Lord Melkor, and he desires your immediate relocation from them. Second you give up any and all claim on the Silmarils."

Those eyes suddenly promised his death, as though the elf's strength of will was all that was keeping him alive. He wanted to run, this was not part of the plan. He was supposed to be able to make the coward fall in place under Lord Melkor, or to get him to leave.

Maglor stood gracefully, and walked down the few stairs that elevated the throne from the rest of the room. Up close he was far from intimidating; he was the shortest of his brothers. He fought down the urge to remove the orc's head from his body.

"Tell me, what proof do you have that he is alive?" There was none, and he knew it. The orc had no way of knowing that his 'lord' would keep Maedhros alive.

The orc looked at him in a mixture of fear, and defiance. As though his defiance would mean that he would leave the settlement if Maglor decided he wanted him dead.

"Is this not enough?" He asked holding up the locks of Maedhros' hair again.

"You have no proof then." His voice turned as cold as his eyes. He stepped soundlessly around the orc, deliberately showing him his back. The message was clear; the orc was seen as beneath him. It was a move that he'd seen his father use often when he was at court in Tirion, and it proved to be as effective now as his father found it then. The orc growled lowly, sensing the insult and growing angry by it. Maglor stopped in the middle of the room, and turned.

"Then my answer is this; there will be no acceptance of terms. Your 'Lord'," He said the word Lord mockingly, "failed to follow through on the terms of a peace meeting, and ambushed them, killing several elves. Therefore we have no reason to believe that he will be true to his words now. As such I refuse to treat with him over this matter or and other he may wish to speak with us about."

Maglor walked back to the throne. Once he sat he whistled to call the guards outside the door. They entered the room, and lead the orc out. Maglor waited for the door to close then bowed his head, closing his eyes in regret. "If you are still alive, please forgive me Nelyo…"


	2. The Musician

The Musician

A/N: This was meant to focus on Maglor's role as a musician. I have no idea as to how well or how poorly I did, but here it is none-the-less. Thanks to psychopompious on tumblr for the idea.

The air was tense with anticipation. It was a festival in Tirion, these were not nearly as common as those held at Alqualonde, or at Valmar. Yet many elves had gathered there once word had spread that High King Finwë had convinced his grandson to perform. So far there had been many musicians playing.

Music swirled through the halls, painting lovely pictures in the minds of the listeners. Yet none of them compared with the music that Macalaurë could create. It was said that he could cause the pictures formed by his words to come to life, and that they were so real that you couldn't tell what was truly there and what he had created.

Movement at the edge of the stage drew many eyes to it; it was the musician that they had been waiting to hear. Everyone had enjoyed the songs that the other musicians had played, yet this was the one musician who drew them. They watched as he walked to the center of the stage and sat at the great harp there. He ran his fingers lightly over the strings, checking to make sure it was in tune.

Once he was sure it was in tune he started playing. The room seemed to come alive, and scenes appeared. First the towering mountains, gilded with golden light shimmering as the deeper notes softly wove through the air, and ensnared their senses. Breathless they waited as higher notes joined in, this time the ever shifting waves of the sea reflecting soft silver starlight. The two meshed, and for a moment everyone in the hall believed that the music had transported them there.

The lower notes softened and eased away leaving the higher unaccompanied for a long moment. Then as though it realized that there needed to be more than the sea alone the deeper notes returned, this time with a voice. The voice brought to life the gleaming white ships, sitting proudly on the shifting seas. The song painted the perfect image of what a Telerin sailor saw on his return from the sea.

All that hadn't heard the musician sing before were breathless, and some of those who had were once again in that same state. Not even their greatest musicians had the ability to create like that. It was stunning, the way they were carried along by the song. Once the voice, and the notes faded to silence several of the audience were shaking from how deeply that had affected them. The singer paused for a couple of moments allowing them to recenter themselves before he started the next song.

This one was familiar to everyone in the hall, just as the previous one had not. It painted the two trees, Laurelin and Telperion. Detailing the process of their light cycles, as one blossomed the other faded, and it repeated in reverse so as the first faded the second flowered. Yet even though they saw it happen daily this song this time hearing it; it was as wondrous to them as it must have been for the first three seeing the light for the first time after years of darkness. Later when they were asked to describe what they heard many of those in the hall would only shake their heads only able to say that to understand it one must hear him sing, for words would never do what it sounded like, and how deeply the songs touched any amount of justice.


End file.
